


Photographs

by screamingarrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta!Scott, Gen, M/M, alpha!Derek, contents of 3b did not will not happen, takes place after 3a, warning for a poorly written panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1310332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingarrows/pseuds/screamingarrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then it all makes sense to Derek. The crying, the pictures... Today's the day she died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photographs

Stiles wakes bleary-eyed. He didn't sleep well, tossing and turning the entire night, and he took a moment to collect himself before getting out of bed. He looks out the window and rubs a hand over his face.

It's raining.

Matches his mood.

It's a Saturday and usually Stiles sleeps in as late as possible, today he knows he won't get away with that. He trudges to his closet and pulls out a worn blue t-shirt. There's a small hole in the seam line near the bottom and Stiles forces his finger through it, tearing the threads and enlarging the hole. With a sigh of disgust he tossed across the room and picks out a new white shirt. He put it on roughly; he found pants lying near his dresser and gave them a tentative sniff before pulling them on in the same harsh manner.

He walks to his door and hovers in the doorframe. He can hear his dad in the kitchen, the sound of his spoon hitting the side of a glass bowl filters softly up to him. Instantly grief hits his stomach and he wants to turn around and crawl back in bed; but he doesn't. He wants to spend the day alone, but if his dad thinks something's wrong, he'll never go to work.

Stiles goes down the steps quietly, long ago learning which steps creak and which don't, and slides into the kitchen. The chill of the floor is a shock on his bare feet and he curls his toes for a moment before continuing to the counter. His dad stops eating but Stiles ignores him until he has a bowl of cereal and is sitting down. The Sheriff looks at him over his glasses, his face blank.

"Good morning," he says quietly. They're always quiet on this day.

 _Is it?_ Stiles wants to ask but instead nods and says, "Morning Pops," back.

Stiles spoons a mouthful of the plain cereal into his mouth and crunches on it. He hears his dad do the same and when Stiles looks up he's staring blankly at the newspaper. Stiles cocks his head to see if his father's eyes are roaming the page and sighs softly when he sees that they're fixed on one point. He reaches across the table and rests his hand on his dads arm. The Sheriff jolts like coming out of a trance and smiles without teeth. Stiles nods his head and smiles weakly back but doesn't withdraw his hand right away. He knows his dad needs all the support he can get today.

It's the nine year anniversary of Claudia's death.

Every year since the beginning, Stiles has spent it with Scott. It wasn't hard to assume this year would be any different. They'd actually been doing well, Stiles and his dad. They'd been coping, living with the fact that she was gone but they still had each other. Stiles thinks that the kidnapping and sacrificing opened new wounds and renewed fears for the both of them, and that's why today this year is already so hard.

His dad would need someone, something, this year that Stiles was in no way capable of providing, and so he had to make sure his dad went to work. Distraction is key to everything and that's a Stilinski guarantee.

"Have any new cases?" Stiles asks and withdraws his hand to resume eating. He's trying too hard to be nonchalant and the Sheriff can tell.

"No, I'm pretty sure all the criminals have been frightened into silence for the time being." The Sheriff folds the newspaper and focuses on his cereal. "I probably don't have to go in, if you need me."

Stiles bites his lip and stirs his cereal, the flakes were starting to get soggy and he shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

"That's okay," he slurs around his breakfast. "I'll be fine."

The Sheriff nods and scraps his spoon against the side of the bowl, knocking off stray pieces into the milk. "Okay," he says with a shrug. They finish eating in silence.

After, the Sheriff leaves. They hug and if it's a little longer than usual, no one mentions it. Stiles watches the police cruiser drive away before drifting back upstairs. He climbs into bed fully clothed- he almost changes back into his pajamas but decides that's too much effort- and pulls the blankets up around his chin. He spends a several minutes staring up at the ceiling, inhaling deep and exhaling slowly, fighting off an oncoming panic attack that his dad might never come home.

Once he felt okay again, Stiles reaches over to his dresser and pulls his cellphone to him. He flips it open, half expecting a message from Scott, but finding none. He clicks his phone off and tucks it to his chest. He waits a few more minutes before checking his phone again and he must have dozed off because there was no way he stared at his ceiling for three hours,  _right_?

There was still nothing and Stiles taps his fingers against the smooth plastic before deciding to call Scott and ask him over. It's not the first time Stiles has called Scott in need and probably won't be the last, so it doesn't even make him hesitate to press 'Call'.

The phone rings once, twice, three times; Stiles thinks it's about to go to voicemail and is already imagining the worst (the alphas came back, they've got Scott and are killing him and oh God here he is just lying in bed when Scott could be  _dying_ ) when the line clicks and Scott's on the other end.

"Hello?" His voice is rushed but Stiles doesn't notice as he breathes out a shaky sigh of relief.

"Hey buddy," he says, feigning ease. "What're you up too?"

"Hey Stiles," Scott says and just his voice is enough to loosen something in Stiles' chest. "Listen I really can't talk right now..."

"Wha- oh, yeah, okay." Stiles' whole body goes rigid and his eyes narrow as tears sting the back of them.

"Sorry man, I'll call you later?"

"Yeah, later," Stiles says slowly. Scott murmurs a goodbye and hangs up. Stiles stares at the flashing picture of Scott on his phone before the screen clears and fades to black. He closes his eyes and counts his breaths. He can do this. He's a Stilinski! If there's one thing Stilinski's are good at, it's handling emotions.

Rationally he knows he should get up and stop wallowing in his own pity, but the covers are warm and comforting and he can't seem to find the motivation to leave them. He rolls onto his side and stares out the window. The rain patters against the siding and thunder rumbles low and long across the sky. He blinks slowly, the soothing sound of rain lulls him near sleep and his eyes feel heavy and sore. It wouldn't hurt anything to close them for a bit.

Stiles dreams he's falling. He's falling and falling and falling, there's no ground beneath him, but there's a dark blue sky above him. He reaches out, trying to grab onto something that wasn't there, and he sees his arm, much smaller than it should be. His hands are childishly small and pudgy. He frowns and suddenly there are tree branches everywhere. His small body is crashing through the branches and he cries out, little arms flailing in attempt to stop his fast descent. There's a ground now; hard jagged rocks and rough shimmering sand. Stiles' heart races and clenches his eyes shut as the ground races up to meet him.

Then there are strong hands grabbing him, plucking him from his decent and pulling him to a soft chest. Tears are streaming down his face and he burrows into the chest. He breathes in, the scent of perfume calms him and settles heavily in his chest. He knows it's familiar, achingly so, but he can't place it. A memory flitters across the back of his mind but it's gone just as quickly as it came.

"Shh," a woman's voice filters to him. It's soft and warm and she rocks him as she speaks. "You're okay. I caught you. Mama caught you."

She bounces him gently and his heart picks up double time, pounding adrenaline and homesickness throughout his body. He breathes in and the perfume hits him hard, settling in his stomach like stones. Biting his lip he raises his head. The fabric he's clinging to is soft and yellow, Stiles remembers with a hard swallow that her favorite color was yellow. With his heart pounding in his ears he slowly raises his eyes; dark brown hair is curled down her shoulders and there's a dark birthmark on her jaw. His eyes continue upward and his heart stutters in his chest.

Her face is gone, erased, completely blank. Just a pale circle making shushing sounds.

Stiles recoils and falls out of her arms. He expects to reach the ground but it's vanished. The sky turns dark and stormy, rain rushes down around him. His stomach rumbles threateningly and his breath gets caught in his throat. The rain stings his skin and there's something binding his legs but it's too dark to see. He's still falling and he now can't breathe at all-

Stiles jolts awake, kicks his legs into the air, and tips sideways off his bed. He lands on the floor hard, his legs are still tangled in his blanket, half on the bed. He gasps and squeezes his eyes shut, tries to make his heart rate slow. His skin tingles and his shoulder is smarting from his fall; he raises his hands and presses them to his chest.

Tears leak from his eyes as the image of a faceless woman and his breaths come in short shallow gasps when he can't remember the details of his mother's face. He rolls to his side and grips his head between his hands.

 _How could he forget?_  He hits his head with a fisted hand.  _That's his mother and he's forgotten her face!_

He tightens his fingers on his hair and pulls on it. The tiny pinpricks of pain centers him enough to manage a deep breath. He loosens his fingers and pushes himself up to his knees, breathing heavily on the floor. He grips his bed sheet and leans over the edge to rest his torso on the mattress; his palms are sweaty and he wipes them on the cool fabric. 

 _A photo album_ _!_  Stiles raises his head abruptly at the idea and stands on shaky legs. Darting out the door he stumbles into the wall before continuing on towards his dad's room. He knows his dad has all the photo albums and picture frames in a box in his closet. The memories had been too fresh to keep them out as a constant reminder of her, and neither man had thought to put them back out. Why disrupt the peace? It was like a wound scabbing over, don't pick the scab and it'll heal faster.

Stiles kneels in front if the box and pulls it open. There's easily five albums in this one box and Stiles knows there's at least two others buried somewhere in the depths of the closet. This one will do fine though. Stiles stands, lifts with his legs, and carefully carries the heavy box into his own room. He sets it down on his bed and pulls out the first one. Sliding so his back's against the wall, Stiles props the album on his legs and carefully opens it.

The page crinkles in his hand and Stiles smooths the plastic. The first picture is of his mom from college. Stiles drinks in the image like a man dying of thirst. She's smiling at someone off camera and Stiles smiles down at her. A knot in his chest loosens as he flips through each page and by the time he's gotten half the album done, he's able to huff in disbelief at the styles she wore.

At first, it's just his mom- his mom with her friends, his mom alone, his mom standing beside a Christmas tree holding a white puppy in her arms- but then his dad pops up. They both look so young. They're sitting at a table, a angry-looking man is sitting at the head. She's laughing, head tilted back with her mouth open. His father looks the very definition of uncomfortable but he's watching Claudia out of the corner of his eye. Stiles feels a giggle build in his chest and imagines it's the first meeting-of-the-parents meal.

The album ends shortly after that and Stiles leans forward to grab a new one. He stacks the one he just looked at on his dresser and settles back against the wall.

This one has more of his father, the pictures documenting their life together. Dinners, picnics, holidays, a New Years kiss, Stiles looks at them all and doesn't even bother to hide the tears rising in his eyes.

Stiles has just opened the third one when his window slides open. He runs a hand over his eyes and looks up before tensing. He thought it might be Scott, but it wasn't.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" Derek asks, annoyance coloring his tone before he looks up and freezes half in-half out of the window. He frowns, well, frowns deeper and slowly steps in.

"What're you- erm, sorry. I can... come back?" Derek stammers and shoves a piece of paper in his pocket. He takes half a step back intending to bolt when Stiles shakes his head and sets the album aside.

"No," Stiles says a little too forcefully. "It's okay. What do you need?"

Distraction is key to everything.

"Just wondering if you could check your notes for something," Derek says slowly, like he's afraid Stiles will bust into tears. "But it can wait-"

"I'm fine," Stiles says, shaking his head and standing. He glances out the window behind Derek as he walks across his room to his desk to power up his laptop. It's stopped raining but the sky is still dark and thunder still rumbles threateningly in the distance. Stiles turns his attention to his laptop and tries to be discrete about wiping his face with his sleeve but doesn't think he's successful. Derek doesn't say anything, though, when Stiles turns around and holds his hand out for the paper. He still looks unsure and Stiles raises his eyebrows. They stare at one another until Derek relents and gives Stiles the paper.

It's wrinkled and Stiles has to squint to try and read the cramped writing.

"Derek, really," Stiles says as he types a few keywords into the search bar on his document. He had started his own bestiary shortly after hearing about Gerard's and now he's worked up quite a few pages. "One of these days you'll have to write like a big person."

Derek huffs and rolls his eyes. His leather jacket squeaks as he moves and perches cautiously on the edge of Stiles' bed. The area still smells like sadness, grief, panic and it makes Derek antsy. Stiles doesn't say anything in retort; Derek can see him biting his tongue a little, the tip poking out between his teeth in concentration.

He shifts, the box next to him slides against his thigh. He glances in and sees two worn albums. His eyes dart to Stiles, who was still squinting at the bright computer screen, and reached inside. The albums smell old, stale, like they hadn't been touched in years. Derek slowly opens the cover and the binding crackles under his fingertips. The sound instantly pulls Stiles' attention to him and Derek wants to apologize but the words stop in his throat when he sees a baby picture of Stiles.

It's one that the hospital takes, with a wrinkly baby wrapped up in a warm blanket and a little knitted hat. Personal photos have always intrigued Derek; his family had had photos covering the walls, tens of photo albums rested in the family room, and framed snapshots littered bookshelves all throughout the house. Now that's all gone, but Derek can't stop himself from flipping the page and looking at the pictures that are covered with plastic. He can feel the weight of Stiles' eyes on him and he looks up, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

"Sorry," he says and Stiles' eyes are sad.

"It's okay," Stiles says softly. Derek felt a prickling behind his shoulder blades. Stiles shouldn't be quiet, shouldn't be speaking softly. He doesn't like it and he looks back down at the pictures. There's a picture of a woman with dark, curled hair. It's frizzed up and she had curled bangs that look terrible, but she's smiling brightly. She has the same upturned nose as Stiles and a dark birthmark on her jaw where Stiles had three closely located moles.

Stiles stands, the chair creaks without his weight, and comes to sit beside Derek. They both look at the picture is silence before Stiles inhales shakily and says, "That's my mom."

And then it all makes sense to Derek. The crying, the pictures... Today's the day she died.

A knot forms in Derek's throat and he swallows around it. "I'm sorry," he says again. He knows the heart wrenching sadness that comes around on days like these. Stiles shrugs and rubs at his eye with his sleeve.

"I'm not- I mean, I haven't been this emotional in a long time but..." Stiles trails off and Derek's wolf can't stand to have its beta sound so sad. A whine builds itself in Derek's chest and he clenches his teeth around it, deciding to rub his shoulder against Stiles' instead.

"I forgot what she looked like," he whispers finally. Although humans in a pack don't feel the full affect of their Alpha, Stiles feels comfort in having Derek so close. Derek looks down at the photo before looking back up at Stiles.

"You look like her," he offers. Stiles' eyes flicker to meet Derek's, more tears filling his eyes. Derek looks away and flips the page. There are pictures of the Stilinski's- holding Stiles in the hospital, holding him at home, Stiles sleeping on the Sheriff's chest- it's nice. Stiles slides closer to Derek; they're sitting close enough for their arms to press against each other and Stiles can feel Derek's warmth through his jacket.

"Do you ever forget-" Stiles clamps a hand over his mouth and recoils away from Derek. Stiles blinks rapidly, leaning away from Derek with his chest heaving. Derek, on the other hand, freezes. His lungs stop working but he can hear his own heart racing faster than Stiles'. But within seconds Derek becomes mobile again. He takes a deep breath in attempt to anchor himself; he can still smell Stiles' sadness, his solitude.

"Yeah," Derek finds himself saying slowly. "I... I don't remember what they look like. Haven't for a long time."

The memory of their faces went last. The first thing- the most important thing- that left him was their smell. It was almost immediately gone, the strong stench of ashes was the only smell he knew for weeks after the fire. They couldn't get it out of their clothes.

Then went their voices. One day Derek realized he didn't remember what his cousin's laugh sounded like, what tone his father used to sing in, the strong Alpha command of his mother.

Their faces stayed with Derek for a long time. Laura looked like their mother and Derek looked like their father. It was easy to pretend, when the nightmares got too bad, that the gentle snoring across the room didn't belong to his sister, but to his mother. That the sharp profile of Laura's face was his mother's against the setting sun. That when Laura's eyes glowed red it was his mother's command that filtered out of her mouth.

And then Peter went and murdered her and Derek can't even stomach looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"I'm sorry, Derek; I didn't even think-" Stiles says hurriedly. His face is still pale and Derek reaches over to lay a hand on his knee.

"It's okay. It's... It happens. That's how you heal." He says and winces internally. Who is  _he_  to talk about healing? He isn't qualified to do this, barely qualified to consider himself an Alpha, but he is. He's  _Stiles_ ' Alpha and Stiles needs him. "And you've got pictures, right? Pictures and memories; you'll forget the little things, but you'll be okay."

Stiles is crying again. Derek thinks he's done something wrong until Stiles leans forward and slides his arm under Derek's, cuddling into the werewolf. Derek is stunned but quickly comes to his senses and wraps his arms around his human. Stiles presses his head into Derek's shoulder and it's awkward and uncomfortable but Derek doesn't move.

Stiles shudders against him as he cries himself out. When he pulls back, his cheeks are red and his eyes are puffy; he yawns and brings a hand up to cover his mouth. Derek smiles softly, barely an upturn of his lips, and pushes Stiles down on his bed. Stiles clutches weakly at his jacket and pulls. Derek leans down and Stiles turns to his side, trying to pull Derek down beside him.

Derek knows he could just leave, pry Stiles' hands off him and walk out but his wolf howls at the thought. So he lowers his body, mindful of the box near his ankle, and slides next to Stiles. The human yawns again, his eyes are lidded and drifting shut. He holds Derek's shirt in his hands loosely and curls against his chest. Derek knows it's just the pack affect, that Stiles needs physical comfort and his Alpha will do just fine; but that doesn't stop him from curling his body around Stiles, nuzzling his nose in Stiles hair, and humming gently as the boy fell asleep.

Twice, he smooths out Stiles' forehead as a bad dream attempts to take hold of him. He talks Stiles away from the nightmare gently and both times Stiles curls up closer and releases a sigh. Derek continues to lay there until he's certain Stiles is in a safe, deep sleep. Slowly he disentangles himself from Stiles' grip, tucks the blankets around him, and leaves.

 

When Stiles wakes up his mouth feels like cotton. He smacks his lips and chances a look outside. The sky has cleared, the setting sun darkens the remaining clouds against a backdrop of orange and pink. Stiles rubs his head and looks around his room. Half of him wonders if he'd imagined the whole thing with Derek. The steely Alpha usually has no room for emotions and what happened earlier was an oddity; an embarrassing abnormality.

Stiles shakes his head as he stands.  _Had to have been a dream_ , he thinks.  _Hopefully was a dream_. He stacks the albums back into the box and starts toward the bathroom to get a drink when he notices the glass of water on his dresser. He walks to it and smiles as his takes a sip. From his standing viewpoint, Stiles can see the floor by his window where a small streak of mud from a pair of boots is crushed into his carpet.

Rationally he knows he should be annoyed, but all he can feel is a warmth in his chest as he drinks the water. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, hope you enjoyed! I literally just wrote this and didn't get it beta'd so if you see anything wrong, please let me know:)
> 
> EDIT: okay so I've accidentally started a lot of new (long) fics and so I'm going to put this one on hold- marking it as finished because it can stand alone. I'll come back and finish this whole idea when I have some more free time


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